Imbōanv Tetralogy Book One, Morroig Emancipation
by Will Hawthorne
Summary: 'Imbōanv. The other world in Earth. The world of, originally, one mountain. Started a little after Earth, itself. All by the Emperor of Kings.' Morroig changed his heritage four times in his mind, living with drama and adventure, survivng in the world known as Imbōanv. Read review, I'll try to update as much as possible.
1. Prologue

Imbōanv. The other world in Earth. The world of, originally, one mountain. Started a little after Earth, itself. All by the Emperor of Kings.

The Emperor of Kings was the ruler and father of all of Imbōanv. Ruled fairly and lovingly.

Imbōanv was a world much larger than Earth, the mountain was just the size, even. The Emperor of Kings grew tiresome after six days, without anyone there to be with besides his two sons and his Akcyard. So he made the Originals. The four Originals, or Starters, were the first to be on Imbōanv Mountain, besides the Emperor of Kings, his sons, and the Akcyard.

The four consisted of a Fauf, a giant, a Birhoo, and a Man. Fauves were ten-foot-tall creatures. On top of a muscular wolf, instead of a head, there was a man's body, bear arms, and a fox's head.

The giant was a sixty-foot-tall human, dressed in merry red clothes.

The Birhoo was a bunny head, a rat's body, human arms, kangaroo legs, and frog feet, altogether: less than a foot tall.

The man was a regular man. Nothing out of the ordinary, to Earth's perspective. Many long centuries, they lived in peace. But the man wanted to see more. The Emperor of Kings knew that he would. So the man left and vowed to come back every eight hundred twenty-three years.

The Fauf had two sons, with those sons, came a smaller mountain. Monster Mountain. Then, the Fauf died.

The giant had four sons. Uvenge, Yenquan, Derfon, and Plish. Then, he too died.

The Birhoo had three sons and a daughter. He, too, died. The order of events for the deaths was unknown, but man did leave before the others' deaths.

But it was said, the day that the last Original died, something terrible happened.

The Emperor of Kings had Akcyard. Dark figures who stood like humans, eight feet tall, who had wings. They were terrifying monsters if all you do is see one, but they are peaceful and loving. He also had his right-hand man and his left. They were his only sons. Malament and Hereu. The day that the last Original died, Malament tried to seize the throne of the Emperor of Kings.

To him, the Emperor of Kings was weak in his love. He didn't think that first-hand man was good enough. So he tried to take control, but was cast out. The very casting out had made his name change, a mountain rise, a malady, and another mountain.

His name was changed to the banned Death. With his anger, the third mountain formed. The Palace of Death. In the power, he made the disease, Soreth Injesius Newon: the dangerous malady that turns a few years of living happiness into an eternity of suffering and pain. But some don't have a good life, so they don't have a good one hundred years, nor a good eternity, but the eternity will be infinitely more worse than anything anyone could possibly imagine.

The Emperor of Kings made the final mountain, Lookout Mountain. At the top showed a light of all that hadn't fallen under Soreth Injesius Newon. But, instantly, he grew sad because the only ones that hadn't fallen were the female Birhoo, Plish, and the Southern Fauf.

So in his sadness, made the rest of what was ever known to Imbōanv. Drasliumbs, Piaablés, Ginalraps, Birtsoors, and those plus the Fauves made up Monster Mountain.

Only so many of the few thousand species that he made were not under Soreth Injesius Newon.

And when it couldn't get any worse, man came back and started civilization. Not all turned out terrible and he stayed in Imbōanv Mountain. Many humans spread and populated Imbōanv, every time something terrible happened, the Emperor of Kings made an ordinary man of Earth come to Imbōanv. They were the world's greatest heroes.

Arrel, the father of heroes.

Riure.

Enganyar.

Venut.

They were all the heroes before Morroig. Morroig did the most to the men of Imbōanv, or, rather, more than those before him.

As the other heroes before him, he started on Earth. Well, he didn't exactly start on Earth. It started with Imbōanv. Unlike any other.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Elternteil ran through the streets of the city. She didn't know where she was going, but she knew that she needed to get away from the Northern Fauf guards. She needed to get away from the Northern Fauf guards. She needed to save the baby from King Töten's decree.

To kill all male, enslaved, human babies that were born that year.

She looked at the asleep baby boy, three months old. She kept the anonymous baby for that long, but not any longer. She needed to get out of the city. The city that was ruled by King Töten. She knew that it was guarded by walls and more Northern Fauf soldiers. She knew that humans could not compare to the speed of Fauves, especially since she had a baby in her arm. But determination was more important.

She knew that there would be a day that the humans' population would get too big. It was all Venut's fault. He was the one who brought humans into the city.

Venut saw no flaw. He was the second in command of all Imbōanv Mountain and parts of Monster Mountain. It did work out until King Töten's reign appeared. He saw too many human slaves in Imbōanv and knew that they would grow to be more than those of Imbōanv. He was right, unfortunately for the slaves and the Emperor of Kings.

The slave work became harder, helping the kingdom greatly. Many died of labor, but more remained and they still grew. So that year, he made his decree. Morroig was too old; guards got suspicious of the family.

And that was where she started running, she didn't bother looking back. If she was lucky, her husband, other son, and daughter were still there, keeping the guards busy.

So Elternteil ran, it took days, months, but she got through the woodlands of the Old Forest, the forests of the Forest of Lies, went through the Giant's Realm, the rocky trail that it had, and the paths of the hedges to get to Lookout Mountain.

On the Winter Solstice, she died. The baby cried and the Emperor of Kings buried the mother, and took the baby to Earth in 432 A.D.

Earth's time.


	2. Chapter 1: The Roman Soldier

Morroig was like every other boy in the time; uneducated at the age of twelve, hoping that he would still find some work, and become a Roman scholar or warrior. That's what all Roman boys wanted at the age. But Morroig had four brothers, two sisters, and a widowed mother.

His father had died in a war against Germany, alongside Morroig's two older brothers, Max and Lucias. They were the second and third youngest. The eldest was a scholar's apprentice, Korrence.

Then, Morroig was the middle, he felt different than his brothers. He looked different and knew that he would disgrace the family. The younger ones?

Philip, the ten-year-old, would be a scholar, no doubt. He knew and had ideas that Morroig couldn't think of. The youngest ones? They were two-year-old twin, Joyce and Gerander, Both girls.

Morroig worried his mother. What would become of him?

But Morroig loved being with his friends. He wasn't too smart and hated wars. He hated fights and battles. "Mentally challenged in all," smirked Max once, when Morroig thought about it too hard.

His best friend was, with no doubt, Germà. Germà was just a year older than Morroig, but he was shorter. Morroig was a little tall, short brown haired, black eyed boy. He was abnormally underweight, which took away more of a chance in battles. He liked the very idea. Germà was like a stubborn brother, but a brother that Morroig enjoyed having around.

He spent every spare second playing with him and a leather ball or staying by the Mediterranean Sea. Morroig loved the water more than any other thing in the world. Maybe that could be his career. A river controller. A dam builder. A boat rower. He didn't care. Why would he? It was his life.

But he worked with the Roman Catholic Church, until further notice. He cleaned up after the services. But if he got to choose a job from it, he would choose to make the speech. Not speak it. Never speak it, he had a problem with speaking. But he loved making the words enunciate. He liked it as a hobby, just never for a job. He got a little each month for his allowance, but just a little.

"Morroig, play ball?" asked the short, strong, speedy, agile, blond boy with big blue eyes. Germà was a soldier to start with; his eyes could pierce people to tell the truth. He held a ball in one hand the other hand showed Morroig the fourteen kids of various ages. "Another player and we have a game."

"No, church is almost over. I need to go." Morroig stated, with the utmost sincerity. Germà's eyes pierced him, but Morroig did nothing, and Germà turned around and motioned all to go. Morroig and Germà fought, as much as Morroig hated it, he knew that it was all joking. That wasn't fighting, but Morroig didn't like when Germà used his eyes against the only one that he knows that won't lie. Morroig had a problem with lying. He just couldn't bring himself to the thought. And when he tried, he failed. He shaked, his eyes didn't look at anything in particular, his knees buckled, his arms hid behind his back, and he mumbled. He knew that people could tell if he lied, so he just told the truth.

He walked to the towering church, made of marble. He got inside the giant oak doors and saw eighty men, women, and children in eighteen pews, divided in rows. The pastor spoke on a podium. When he finished his speech, a choir of children to seniors sang a song about God and they all left.

When they all left, the old pastor told Morroig his duties. Then, he left and Morroig started cleaning child's papers, wine glasses, bread crumbs, and even found an old pair of sandals. Also, strangely, a crumpled paper.

Athenae occiderent

Athens to kill.

Oh, no. Morroig thought. Not another war. Rivers going to be closed, brothers gone, terrible time.

He decided to stop his cleaning for a little time and run to the pastor. Marcus Labienus Libo, though liked to be called Marcus by all, even Morroig. Marcus loved names but couldn't figure out Morroig's.

He ran to catch up. He was pretty fast at running, and he did catch up. He showed the crumpled paper to the monk-looking priest, Marcus.

"Oh, no. Morroig, why would you write something like that?"

"What? No, no I didn't write this. I found it. It's not my fault, you know how much I hate war."

"Oh, child, if only it wouldn't happen. If only we could talk it over. Negotiate. Oh, why, Father? Why, Father, do you put us through such troubles?" He started speaking to himself.

"Marcus, why do we fight? You know, if we all go to a Roman Catholic Church." Morroig asked slowly. "It doesn't make sense. Why war, when peace is an option. I shall try to stop the fighting."

"Child, you do that, I pray that someone will. Someone will rise and save us from certain war."

Morroig ran back to the church and finished his duty. He would show it to his family and Germà. After his duty.

"Good. Come, Max, lets go fight. Practice fighting." Lucias said with a smile. Lucias, Max, and Germà left to practice. Germà had a profound desire to practice with people that were five and six years older than himself.

"Mother, Morroig, Philip, I have to go." Korrence said, leaving to his master. He was a right-hand man that gave ideas and showed the experiments.

Philip left to study and Morroig's mother left because of the wailing from Joyce and Gerander. Thus, leaving Morroig with his little paper. He read the Latin over and over again, as if it would do something different.

But it didn't. The war would come. He knew it. When someone wanted someone else killed, there was bloodshed. Morroig decided to go outside and watch his brothers and friend "play" with their swords.

On the dusty dirt, Morroig watched as Max wasted his energy with his muscle, Lucias with his strategy, and Germà with his melee and defense. Anyone of them could take on many men and Max could even take an arrow to the heart and still live an extra minute off of momentum and adrenaline. Not that they tried that. . .

After all, Max won the most times, which no one was surprised at. But they all had to give Lucias and Germà credit for their defense and strategy.

A week, they waited, but nothing happened. when Morroig did his duty, he went to the church and scanned the spot that he had found the slip at. Unfortunately, he did find another. It was fortunate, however, because he found one. Unfortunate because of what he found on it.

Post Mensem

After a month.

It wasn't that bad. It would wait. When he showed it to the pastor, Marcus thanked God that they had another month.

Max and Lucias were a little angry that they didn't get to do anything for a month. Korrence and Philip did the same thing over again. But his mother had a different response.

"Morroig, you found this at the same spot?"

"Yes, Mother."

"Then it is simple. Next time, go early and see who it is."

"Why, Mother?"

"Do it."

"Alright. . ."

Morroig walked along the road with Germà. He brought his sword, but Morroig wouldn't allow that in the church.

"Fine. . ." he said trying to hide his bronze sword in the yellow grass.

They went in and Morroig scanned the rows. There he was.

"There," Morroig pointed at a Roman soldier in the sixth row. "That's the one."

"A soldier? Come, we have to tell your family."

"Go, I'll find out who it is. And I have my work." Germà thought over Morroig's statement and decided to stay.

"And now, the choir will finish it for us." Marcus said.

The choir stood and sang a song.

Elohim, send the Lamb

send him to save us

Elohim, send the Son

for salvation is a must.

When the song was finished, everyone left, but the soldier in his metal suit with a red cape stayed, searching. Morroig went up,

"Sir, do you need something?" The soldier jerked up, his eyes fearful. But, being a soldier, he put up the tough act.

"No, leave child, before I. . . I. . . I can't even say it in the presence of God."

Germà knew, by instinct, that he was lying. He made his look at the soldier, the victim sat more fearfully than before. He reached for the sword that wasn't there. "Children, leave." He quivered. "Do you know who I am?" More confidence.

"No, I assure you that that is the reason." Morroig said, cunningly.

"I am Appius Lillues━" He looked more fearful than ever before, much more than any soldier would dare go. "No, forget what I said!" And he stormed out of the sanctuary.

"How did you find out?" Max sounded more interested.

"Reverse psychology, duh." Philip said with a bored expression.

"That's it!" yelled Korrence as he ran into the wooden post next to the door. They laughed, but he stormed out. It seemed to be usual. Morroig would do something useful, Korrence would get an idea.

Morroig hadn't slept well. His dream worried him. He and Germà were fighting and all around them, people died. Humans and weird monsters that weren't in mythology or life. Mixtures of animals. They were in a metal can and dents came in, they didn't go out. They suffocated. They died.

"Morroig, Max wants you." Philip's quiet voice shivered. Morroig awoke from his nightmare. "It's about the Roman Soldier, Appius."

Morroig rushed to his brother, who stood just inside the door. Korrence and his Mother peered behind a curtain. "Morroig, I'm so sorry. But you were adopted. . ." He looked at his feet as he opened the curtain. Morroig's first reaction: "What?" Morroig's second reaction, "No! No, help me, Mother. Korrence, Max!" A bag was swept over his head, Morroig could smell blood. They pulled the bag over his whole body and two or three metal suits brought him.

"Wait," Mother's soft voice came. Morroig thought that she would save him. He should have known better. "Morroig, you were taken in as three months old. You were never my son. I am sorry. It was one or all. I am sorry, but you aren't even my offspring.

Morroig started crying. "No! No, save me! Mother! Max, rescue me! Help!" The door slammed and Morroig was crying in a sack knowing where he would go. Would he see his true Father? Elohim? Was he adopted? He cried, either way. He was thrown onto a wooden surface, another body onto his.

"No, Father!" came the last voice he would expect that would be yelling for a parent. Germà's.

"Germà, it's me, Morroig. What happened?"

"They wanted me. They wanted me, Father and Mother defended me. They're dead. The Roman soldiers killed them!"

"My family. My family adopted me. They gave me away. We both don't have parents." Then, he spoke quietly. "We need to break out."

"Right, already on it." There was a little silence, hard breathing, the muffled clank of metal on wood, and the sound of severing leather. A knife poked into Morroig's bag. They got out and found themselves enclosed in a wooden box.

"Good, no one heard us. No one saw us." Germà said, quietly, tears dried on his cheeks and dabbed in his eyes.

"Okay, how do we get out?"

He brandished his knife and a slight smile. Morroig got the idea. But first, he tried something more likely. He got to the back of the slowly moving carriage. He pushed it and the board slightly moved, hinged to the top.

"Oh, good thinking." They peered through the crack. One horse. Germà raised his knife and aimed for the knee joint of the horse. He hit it just below and the horse fell. He pushed the door open and he and Morroig fell out, scrambled to their feet, and sprinted as fast as they possibly could go. They sprinted past corners, streets, towers, buildings, and they avoided a path to the amphitheater. They ran to the water and started swimming. Horses would be no help. The cold water was smooth, the weather was perfect in the night.

But they both fell asleep in the water. On accident, of course. They didn't know about the Roman ship going by and what would happen if they touched the last Fryddi leaf on Earth.

It was the transferring leaf that died when used. It transferred one to a different dimension. How did they know that they were like the other heroes of Imbōanv.

In fact, it was because of Imbōanv that the Fryddi leaves went extinct after the one that Morroig and Germà touched.


	3. Chapter 2: Amnesia

"Look at this one!"

"He's dead."

"Kingra, you don't think―"

"King Töten, if you please, Senator Jergubynn!"

Morroig opened his eyes.

"Told you, Mother, at least one is alive." The voice of Kingra Töten said, a short, plump man with long black hair and tiresome eyes. Morroig's eyes widened. Only one survived? Where was he?

He looked around, so much to take in. He was in a circular stone room, he was on the floor, two people kneeled by him, four people stood, Germà sprawled on the floor next to him.

"Don't be rude, Kingra!"

"Mother, you do not have an excuse to call me Kingra, just because―"

"Kingra!"

"Fine, Mother. Hello, stranger, who are you?"

"I am Morroig, and, um, where am I? Who are you? What is that?" Morroig pointed to a gruff mixture of animals. It had a cobra's head, a dog body, human legs, and lion tails for arms, as if whips, it was seven-feet-tall and very different from what Morroig had seen ever in his life, except from his dream. He was coated in a blue trench coat and hat.

"Him," a human that kneeled beside him laughed. "He's a Drasliumb!" (The Drasliumb's "b" wasn't silent.) "And I am Geroo Jergubynn, the Senator from Imbōanv City." Geroo Jergubynn was a tall, trustworthy-looking man with short red hair and focused eyes.

"I am King Töten." the plump man said.

"I am his mother, you may call me Yenqurhu." The short, old woman with gray hair and eyes said. Blind?

"I am Xevedri, the it." The Drasliumb laughed.

"I am Merdanni." The pale human kneeling next to Morroig said. He had long blond hair and dark blue eyes.

"And he is my boring guard, Kedfrymm." King Töten said, bored, pointing to a enigmatic man with short, black clothes, not covering any part of his body, but his head, in which he had a hat. The parts that were visible of his skin were black.

"Germà?" Morroig looked at his best friend. "Is he alive?" he asked the crowd around him.

"He is." Kedfrymm spoke, quietly. As if his voice made it happen, Germà coughed and looked around. "Who, what, where?" Who are you? What are you?" Where am I?" He said, eyes wide.

"You are in the safe walls of my kingdom, of Usm Orgindykk. But due to the fact that you don't know what a Drasliumb is, you are probably from Earth. You are in Imbōanv. The alternate world." Merdanni said.

"They aren't the heroes, are they? Like Arrel, Riure, Enganyar, and Venut?" Yenqurhu asked.

"Mother, there is nothing wrong, the empire is bigger and better than ever before."

The Drasliumb and Merdanni looked like they wanted to argue, but thought better of it.

Surprisingly, Morroig and Germà were taken under the wing of the king. They were considered the "Sons of the Empire" or just simply princes. They forgot all about Earth. They learned about the two hundred gods that the people worshiped, they were superior to others, learned the geography of Imbōanv, and reading and writing in the local language, Fadhiish. Speaking in it was easier, but all of Imbōanv used the same language, so it was useful. They forgot all about Earth and its beliefs, Morroig and Germà were brothers and thought that they were since birth. They had extreme amnesia.

Amnesia was the other effect of the Fryddi leaf. Morroig and Germà, for all they knew, were brothers. Princes. Sons of King Töten. For all they knew, they were superior to the human slaves. For all they knew, the two hundred gods were all alive. Except for the god of death, Sukkour. For all they knew, Death was just a legend. A myth.

Imbōanv was built around the kingdom, for all they learned. That was what they were told. They thought that they knew many things, but Morroig thought about other things.

If all of Imbōanv was built around the kingdom, he was told, but why did the gods build the kingdom first? "Because we're all the Chosen Race. The human slaves think that they are, but they came from Earth." Their Grandmother had said.

In truth, all of the humans did come from Earth. Not all originated on Earth, but that was the world that they came from.

They learned the ranks. The King at highest. Then, the close family of the king. After that, the priests and armies. Then, the guards and, finally, the slaves. There were about five thousand slaves and rapidly growing. The Men of the Empire, the ranks of all but the slaves, had respect and expected it from the slaves who never really got a name from the Men of the Empire.

Morroig never had been able to leave without a guard. One guard in particular. Merdanni seemed to grow a bond to him. "Weak" in his father's eyes, for being kind, but Morroig liked him. He was trustworthy and never let secrets from anyone get to anyone else.

Merdanni believed that the two-hundred gods weren't real. He believed that the Emperor of Kings had made it and Death made the evil force, Soreth Injesius Newon, to make people go to his palace or Ghost Hauntings. Xevedri believed the same thing, but Morroig didn't believe them.

Why would he? He didn't know what they looked like. He saw drawings and statues of his gods. Why would he believe that there was just one thing that had formed Imbōanv. The Emperor of Kings. That was much authority. More than the gods he worshiped on a daily basis.

The slaves believed it, too. They believed that because they were the "Chosen Race," that they were going to be saved from the wrath of the Men of the Empire.

Morroig believed no such thing. Venut had brought the "Chosen Race" into the Empire. It was because he believed in the Emperor of Kings, that the "Chosen Race" became slaves.

Why ever Father made the people slaves. . . was all Morroig could think. Was it so that he could just have more authority? Morroig didn't know.

Morroig and Germà pestered the priests, Arynnud and Korterdd. The priests of the gods of sleep and dreams. They spent the day asleep and the night awake.

All Morroig and Germà did was awake them from their sleep and dreams to make them not able to sleep. They did it once an hour except on the eighth day of the week, Goghastak. The eighth day of the nine-dayed week was the longest night, so they kept asleep the whole day. They kept weeks, but not years. They had no idea what year it was, but the priest of the god of time kept track of how many weeks that the Empire had been alive. Somewhere near the end of the first million.

People made notes to start, but were told off for foolishness.

Morroig had no recollection of his life, but had the memorable ability to figure things out much faster than he could have ever.

Life had been good for the five months that they had been there, at the time. They learned, played, fought, learned, and joked around. And learned.

"Morroig, get up." Germà said, loudly.

Morroig was in the marble bedroom with some of the finest bed clothe made. Not just clay beds or straw, but feather and cotton. Most of the rooms were marble or other stone substances.

But the majority was marble. Made by many "Chosen Race" slaves, column by column.

"What?"

"It's Arynnud and Korterdd.", he replied; "well, uh━just come!"

"It's still night, what could they possibly be doing at such a time?" Morroig quest- ioned.

"Just come." Germà demanded excitedly, as if what the priests were doing was amusing. He ran out of the room, stopping just outside of the door, right next to a Birtsoor, a creature with a cardinal's head and feet, a turtle's shell body, and bat wings, altogether two feet tall.

Morroig lazily got up from his warm bed. He saw the Birtsoor silently flying away. Morroig slowly walked up to his brother.

He followed him past marble hallways of the kingdom. He never hastened, but walked quietly, listening for the slightest hint of being caught. The night sky told everything. Midnight.

His footsteps seemed amplified, his breath could wake the deepest slumberer. Why am I doing this? Morroig told himself time after time.

As Germà passed a corner, Morroig stopped. His back stiffened. All of his hairs stood steadfast.

A harp played a small tune. A delicate lullaby that showed Morroig something. A memory, a triggered memory.

A woman with flowing black hair held him to her chest, she looked down with her beautiful eyes. Her mouth pronounced the blatant words.

Sechi Hurff g ilr faa kai. Sechi Hurff* g mai d'kallya.

Fadhiish.

She had the most soothing voice Morroig had heard. Who was she?

"Morroig, why are you stopping?" his brother whispered. The lullaby played on, his brother appeared to not hear it.

Morroig looked into the music's lair, a harp lay, its strings still vibrating, but no one played. There was no music.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, c'mon, what are they doing that's worth my awakening?" Morroig looked once again, a silver glint hit him, but left immediately, he didn't bother.

The brothers ran past steadfast majestic blue gargoyles, on elongated purple and gold floors, and past strong, sturdy marble columns.

He waited for more music.

None came.

"There!" the slightly louder whisper of Germà came. They both stood behind a wall, watching the priests and the victims.

"Slave! Do you know who I am?" Arynnud slapped a girl with golden hair, thirteen or so. She had Morroig's black eyes and slightly weak body.

Her brother took the hands of his smaller sister. He had brown hair, black eyes, and an average body for a fourteen year old. He got in between his sister and the priests. "Sirs, no harm meant. If━ if━"

"Silence, boy!" Korterdd warned the boy. He gave a menacing glare, which was much nicer due to men's little more right over women. Even selfish people like the priests had to go under such laws.

Morroig saw Germà smile at the scene. Morroig smiled gleefully. But the song seemed like one that the Men of Earth. He thought. Something was wrong, but he didn't let his compassion show.

"You have no authority over us, you slaves!" Arynnud yelled. He walked off with his fellow priest. The boy comforted the crying girl.

"Lets get the priests." Morroig smiled.

"What, for having authority over slaves?"

"Um, no, for not doing it this whole week."

They smiled in unison, Germà rushed back, but Morroig looked at the boy and girl who resembled his self.

Something told him to help them. To comfort the slaves. Comfort slaves? What am I saying, I am the third most powerful man in all of the kingdom.

But some part of him told him not to listen to what he told himself.

"Morroig," Germà whispered. Morroig looked at his brother then to the boy and girl. He smiled and ran to his brother.

"What's wrong?" Germà asked. Morroig looked at the slaves. "Them? Do you want to know what should have happened?"

"No, come on, lets go get the priests." Morroig ran past columns with his brother. "So what are we going to do? They're awake."

"I recall this to be your idea. What's your brilliant idea?"

Keeping track of where he stepped, he gave Germà a menacing glare, but gave in and laughed quietly.

"Okay, pour wine?"

"They're awake."

"Fine, wait till they're asleep?"

"Nope,"

"What do you want to do?"

"I can't think, I'll just do something for trouble or not." he said earnestly. "You make the ideas up and I be skeptical about the incorrect ones."

"Fine then, you make an invisible net with the silk under your bed━"

"You don't know about that." Germà said slightly more angry and slightly too loud.

"Oh, don't I?"

They laughed for a bit, before they got to Germà's chamber to get his silk. He looked inside the drawer, took it out, and brandished it in front of the smiling Morroig.

"Is this what silk you meant?" Germà asked. Morroig gave him a pitiful look, but then decided to shrug that."

"We both know you have more than that, but I guess that that is enough,"

"Sewing a net. . ."

They looked at each other with a smile and said in unison, "Kertoydd."


	4. Chapter 3: The Truth Unfolds

Kertoydd was a slave girl whose family was respected for their service to all nobles. Kertoydd was the eldest daughter of the widow, Mekdii.

The widow, Mekdii, and the eldest daughter, Kertoydd, were tailors for food and money. They weren't counted as slaves, but for publicity's sake, they were referred to as slaves.

The only others in the small and sad family were the newborn male twins, Mezz and Eurkk.

Kertoydd, twelve, and her mother, thirty-six, spent days weaving, sewing, cutting, and even having to make clothing from scratch. Morroig and Germà knew Kertoydd for making their clothes, they knew that she would do what she was asked to do. They didn't even have to command, she worked better if she was asked.

Politely.

Of course she couldn't make anyone ask politely, but she made a face when she thought no one was looking if they commanded. Especially from her own people.

She knew the princes and they knew her, all they had to do was ask.

It was still dark, but she must have been working anyway. She stayed up at nights sewing and usually went to sleep while her mother was awake so that at least one was awake to sew.

Down six streets of mud-and-wood made houses, and over three blocks of the palace, they crept. One of the six houses in the kingdom that had burning oil all night and open windows all day.

The best thing about her was that she was their age. She was boring and had no imagination when she wasn't sewing, so no one played with her. How boring could one get?

Not much more, but it would have to do. They crept into the house and were not at all surprised to see that she was awake sewing. Not taking her eyes off of a green and black garment, she said nonchalantly, "Not you two again. . ."

"How do you tell?" Germà asked, yet not surprised.

"You guys are the only people with expensive cologne that come in."

"What about the priests and men from other lands."

"Nope, they smell like wine, but sometimes I wonder if you made them smell like that or if they did. You two and your mischievous ways. . ."

"Um, Kertoydd, having nothing to do with that word second to last," Germà always failed at words. "I would like to ask you to make something for us, please." She was the only one who he ever said please to.

"Price? Cloth?" she finally looked up at them with pressing and thriving sea-green eyes that were almost covered by her long brunette bangs.

Currency in Imbōanv was small. Sixteen of the silver Lycru coins made one golden Jyylk coin.

"We need it done within the hour. A net, out of Germà's silk. I'll give nine Lycru." Morroig reasoned. Kertoydd's eyes widened.

"It'll be done in the hour." She tore the silk from Germà's hands and put down the green and black garment. As she set off, she asked, "What are you doing with an invisible net, by the way?"

Germà looked at Morroig. They hadn't discussed that. It had better been worth that silver. "You know us." Though Kertoydd didn't look, she knew that there was another mischievous grin.

Morroig's brother gestured the two outside and asked immediately why they were wasting so much silk and silver.

As Morroig's mind raced, he thought, but didn't think for five seconds. "I have a plan worth the equipment." As that was a lie, he couldn't let his brother think they were wasting it on something they didn't know. He went inside and took a mental conversation meeting in his mind.

"I object this idea, there is no way it will do anything useful."

"Give us a good laugh."

"No one cares about the laugh!"

"Yes!"

"I do!"

"Order, we don't have an hour to argue, we have an hour to think."

"What's the difference?" Morroig made a menacing glare to himself. Then he cowered and got serious again.

"Well, it's blatantly to trip." murmured agreements.

"Into wine."

"We overuse wine, how about they don't find out it is us this time?"

"Yes, I like that idea." Morroig raised a finger.

"Yes, Morroig Number 864,602,052,086,169,644,639?"

"I say we trip them into a basin of bugs."

"Does anyone here agree to that?" About six of the 945,654,885,385,653,575,679 council members stood, but sat with embarrassment.

"We are not wasting any of those coins, I say we blindfold them."

"It's an invisible silk, retard!"

"Being the same person, that makes us all retards."

"Silence everyone, this is my plan. We trip the priests. He trip them off a building. Then we clean up the guts, using nothing but toothbrushes and our bare fingertips. Right? Who's with me?"

"Tempting, but. . ."

"Yeah, we aren't doing that."

Morroig fought with himself the whole hour and never made any progress. "Finished, coins."

As a net, it looked translucent, not transparent. Morroig reached in his pockets and took out no less than what they bargained for.

Kertoydd threw the net at Germà and greedily took the coins to a safe as the two left. Morroig sighed deeply. Almost a nine hundred forty-five quintillion people in an hour and nothing worthwhile? There were more people in Morroig's head than ever on the populations of the worlds combined even on their greatest populations.

"Morroig, you had another 'meeting' didn't you?" he closed his eyes, made looks around an oval, raised fingers, clapped for an invisible man's idea in mock of his brother. Morroig punched him and they smiled down the road.

Morroig just got an idea, a brilliant one that would work, but he lost it to the cry of a female child. Morroig ran to the sound and saw a priest whipping a six-year-old girl. "You! Stop, put the whip down!"

The Priest of Torment dropped the whip and bowed down to the princes. The little girl looked at him with gratitude and three lashes on her face before running away in pain. "Priest, what are you doing?"

"Punishing your people."

"My━"

"Slaves, sir. Forgive me."

"What did the girl do?"

"She was out. No one may be out at this time."

"I never saw you out, you never saw us out, neither of us saw her. Unless you want banishment and rescinded of all power." The priest winced at the thought, nodded, and walked toward the huts of the priests.

"What's up with you? Helping slaves?"

"A little girl! There must be a law against such brute force!"

"No, Morroig, learn the laws of life. One, we are superior to the slaves. Two, they are not the Chosen Race. Three, Fauves smell like rotten Tyyyket Bread." As Germà laughed at the last one, Morroig remained solemn, looking towards the dark huts around him.

"Yeah, okay, let's trip some priests." Morroig forced a smile. But as they ran through the marble hallways, he stopped, again, at the doorway of the harp.

"Morroig." a soft whisper came. Not the soothing one. A one of an eighteen-year-old boy. A silver gleamed in his eye, again.

"Who are you." Morroig stated more than asked.

"I am Saviesa. The wisdom of the White Cross Army. These are my brothers, Meitat and Köole."

"Army?"

"It confuses everyone. Yeah, it's just the three of us, the White Cross Army."

"What was the harp and the vision?"

"This harp was made by Elternteil for you. That was Elternteil you saw. That was your mother."

"Queen?"

"Slave." Saviesa came out, he was in complete silver armor, but on his breastplate, shoulders, knees, and engraved in his helmet for seeing and breathing were crosses. They were all a majestic blue, except that of the helmet. So much for the white cross, it was blue. He held a bow and a quiver of arrows was behind him.

"My father would never love a slave. He is too. . . yeah, I can't think of the right word, but that's what he is. I get lethologica.

Saviesa took off his helmet. He was mostly bald, but short stubs of black poked out every here and there. He had bored green eyes, no other emotion showed. He was Spanish and his voice was sincere when he said, "the father you have you will never see again. That king is not your father. When you were a baby, Elternteil died saving your life. The Emperor of Kings brought you to Earth and you were raised by Romans. You touched a Fryddi leaf and came to Imbōanv with no memory."

Meitat and Köole stepped out of the darkness. They had the same armor, but Meitat was an albino. Pale skin, pure white hair, and strange pink eyes. Köole looked more like Saviesa, but with long black hair and deep black eyes, like that of a hawk.

"Saviesa the wisdom, Meitat the. . ."

"Meitat the balance keeper," he held up a golden scale of measurement. Morroig looked sideways at that, as if the balance was a joke, but Köole inserted, "Köole the leader." Unlike the others, he had a shield that also had a blue cross.

"You expect me to believe that I am not a prince? You expect me to pick slave over prince?"

"It is a fact that you must face. In due time, you'll thank us." Saviesa said. "And you've already shown care for the slaves. The Chosen People."

"The Emperor of Kings? Chosen People? White Cross Army? Really?" but truth stood steadfast in their eyes, like a soldier ready for battle.

"Those two people, the boy and girl resembling you, go to them and say Morroig of Elternteil. Go to that man you call father and he will explain what they mean. By that time, you will understand."

In the blink of an eye, they left Morroig standing.

Hoping that the slaves were still there, Morroig faster than he could to get there, his legs would have left his body behind.

Fortunately, the slaves were still there. Strangely, Morroig thought about what the White Cross Army said.

Morroig walked up to the boy and girl who resembled him. "Excuse me."

In shock, the girl dropped a vase, shattering it and the man jumped up to his feet. Then, they knelt.

"The White Cross Army told me to tell you two that I am Morroig of Elternteil."

She could have dropped another vase.

With a soothing voice, like that of Elternteil, she said to her brother, "Incredulitat, It's him. Finally."

"Creure, it has to be."

"Morroig, look at how much you've grown from that portrait that we had to burn last year. Oh, you would have loved to see your cute little face." She smiled warmly. That smile made Morroig want to smile, himself, but instead looked at the sturdy boy.

"Morroig, I've long since thought you would never come back. Creure, she always believed. He went up to hug Morroig, but he stepped away.

"Sorry, this a business matter. Why did Elternteil die for me?"

"Morroig, why do you speak as if she is not also your mother?" Creure asked.

"Please, answer me." Morroig asked.

"King Töten had made a law. A law saying that you must die. You would be dead. Our mother saved you because she loved you and died for her efforts. You survived." Incredulitat said.

"Why would he kill me?"

"Because you were a baby boy at the age of a year or less. I was two and Creure is a girl. You would have died. And if not, you would be a slave. You were sent to Earth and back by the will of the Emperor of Kings."

"I don't believe it. I don't believe any of it. You are all crazy, why did I take it this far? Slaves! That is what you are. Now get in your hut before I report on you! Go!" and he ran off. Not to his dorm or where the priests and his brothers were, but to the Paintings of the Walls. He went there for history class.

On the stone walls, he saw what had been done. Paintings of guards holding baby boys above a river, the Hyrias River. Sure enough, King Töten pointed to the alligators on the east side of the river. The most treacherous part.

Morroig looked at the wall again and again, always hoping history would rewrite itself. It was true. Morroig would be dead or enslaved.

In the middle of the night, he fell asleep on the cold stone, that was still more than he deserved. . .

"Morroig." The voice of Merdanni came, awakening Morroig.

"Merdanni, hello. Uh, I was just trying to memorize all the history, um, for future tests, you know."

"Really? What started Imbōanv?"

Morroig acted like he was trying to remember, but had no idea.

"One must be careful about what history to believe if one wants to remain in the darkness." and he started to walk away.

"Merdanni, um, may I ask you something?"

The man stopped and they looked at each other in the eye for a few seconds before her said "sure" and knelt down beside Morroig.

"Um, you know that Emperor of Kings? Uh, what does the White Cross Army have anything to do with him?"

Merdanni smiled deeply and said, "the White Cross Army had started in 200 BC with three Spaniard triplets. Köole, the eldest and leader, Saviesa, the one who actually thought things through, and Meitat, the one who never picked sides, he always tried to find the compromise. Hereu, the Son of the Emperor of Kings, wanted people to look after Imbōanv for eternity. So he asked for the White Cross Army. The Emperor of Kings chose Köole, Saviesa, and Meitat to look after Imbōanv for eternity. They can be everywhere at once and fight evil when heroes cannot or need them."

"So if one met them, you would trust them with anything?"

"They wouldn't ever break a promise or lie."

"Can you keep a secret?"

"Yes, sir."

And Morroig told him about all of the events of the previous night. He looked up at the wall and immediately understood before it was all finished.

"What will you do? What do you believe?"

"There is no possible way that there can't be someone like the Emperor of Kings. I will not worship any of the gods. I am going to apologize to my brother and sister and I will stop making trouble. This is a secret between you and me, right?"

"Absolutely."

Morroig smiled and shook his hand before he stood and stretched. Almost immediately, he ran towards the huts of the sla━Morroig's brethren. He ran up to Creure and Incredulitat and hugged the both of them under the sun.

He smiled deeply and kissed each muddy cheek before he set off on the road. But his happiness faltered. He became melancholy at the sight of his brethren being tortured to work for so many hours with no break.

He looked at people being whipped. Old men expect to carry burdens, as well as children. There were no boys of the age of twelve or thirteen. Just girls.

He choked back tears and apologies. But on a giant statue of King Töten, he found a guard threatening to push a man off the six story sculpture of just his knee.

Morroig gagged more the closer the old man got to the edge. He started sprinting up the steps, three stories, five stories. Six. "Guard, leave that man alone!" He ordered, but the guard smiled evilly, and pushed the man off, with one hand. Enraged, Morroig dashed and tackled the man off, slinging to the floor for life and swung the old man and himself to the fifth story.

Everyone horrified, Morroig looked down at the mess. A guard shouted up the one word that Morroig had regretted and hoped never to be called. Ever.

"Murderer!"


	5. Chapter 4: Through the Forest

Morroig panicked, but only for a few seconds. What would he do? Where would he go? Would he hide among his people? Would they take him in?

No, Morroig decided. I will leave. I hope time will heal my transgression. . .

WIth shocked faces where he was and down below, with small gasps that could be heard from the other side of the kingdom, with a strong urge, he broke the silence with a run towards the stairs.

"Get him!" Screams and shouts shot up and around, but Morroig blocked all of it out, he was running for his life. Not a thrill ride.

He shot down two flights before guards got up. He ran towards the edge and held to the edge. Then he ran on the first floor, down the stairs and towards the closest edge of the kingdom.

Morroig heard Fauves and barrelling men run after him. They wouldn't leave the kingdom, though. Fauves and men were fast, but Germà and his friend, a Fauf named Jerhoun, were way faster. Easily they caught up.

"Morroig! What have you done?" Germà called out as he got in front of his brother.

Morroig, who couldn't stop, kept running, but Germà ran beside him as Jerhoun happily found some food along the dusty trail. Outside the kingdom. Actually, five yards out of the kingdom, but the guards and Fauves didn't leave the kingdom. Fail.

Morroig stopped and looked back at the pathetic sight of the Fauves and guards who couldn't leave the kingdom. "Germà, become a good king. Be better than Töten. Promise me."

With the look of shock on Germà's face, he drew a Fadhiish symbol in the dust and ran off.

Germà looked at the symbol with sorrow. "Sorry. . ."

Morroig completely ran out of breath by the time he got out of the sight of the empire and into the thick trees and tall vines. He bent over and tried to look back at his mistake. That man would have killed that slave. Morroig saw it done before. Morroig was one of the Chosen People. Were they really chosen? Did the White Cross Army make that up to get him banished?

You weren't banished.

Yeah, you banished yourself.

No one was banished.

You can go back.

If you want to die.

But there's less protection out here.

"Go away! Just go away!" Morroig clutched his ears and knelt onto the ground, but hurt his shin on a root that stuck up a few inches off of the ground. He fell backward clutching his shin.

"You left."

Morroig looked up and around. Even though it was just day, the trees around him were dark and gloomy, not letting any sun hit the dismal ground. Thankfully, there was no noises except that voice of one he knew.

"You accidentally murdered."

Morroig was about to freak out.

"Do not blame us."

Morroig saw the three silver and blue knights, the White Cross Army.

"It isn't our fault." Meitat said earnestly.

"I didn't blame you."

"If we weren't here, you would have started." Saviesa said sincerely.

"Yeah, I probably would. What are you guys doing here?"

"You won't survive in Imbōanv all by yourself, you haven't learned survival yet. We will help you. Those creatures you hear in those scary stories are really real and hard to defeat. You need to get to safety."

Morroig nodded. He knew the stories. Small bushes that drown people in dirt, snake-like dragons that can break unbreakable substances, tall monsters that can destroy whole armies in seconds and are almost completely invincible, a bird-like monster that can grow and carnivorously tears apart flesh from bone, and tall giants that lead many rebellions even among their allies. They were real?

"You guys fight?"

"We are an army."

"Thousands of years of training."

"Sword and bow and Meitat just stays out of the way."

"Hey!"

"Truth be told. Anyway, since that may be hard, the Emperor of Kings wants you to have something." Saviesa took out a sword. It was a two-foot silver sword with a T-shaped handle, leather grip, and the handle was slightly tainted sea-blue. On the blade, there was a calligraphy Fadhiish word, "Adstré."

"Your colors?"

"No, it's one of the Five Swords of Peace. You may call it Adstré, or the Water Sword." Meitat said.

"Why water? And why is a sword peaceful?"

Köole laughed, "You will realize its true power soon. If not, it could take a while, but you will find it a most useful tool and you will find peace with it. It has magic and you are responsible to use the magic to make peace."

"Does it have special power?"

"Amazingly, but you will figure that power out. Soon enough, well it may take a while, but oh well, we need to go." Saviesa said urgently, looking around.

"Morroig, do you know what true horrors you may find?"

"Not even half, but I'll figure out the rest, let's go." Morroig took the sword, which was slightly heavy, and stood up straight. The White Cross Army looked at each other and then started walking the direction Morroig had been heading, in which Morroig followed closely. He didn't want to lose them.

The twisting and winding trees and roots stuck out and wove around each other type of plant, which was an exotic sight to see, trees doing that to vines. Everything was a very dark green with a spot of tainted green light leaking from the trees every other couple yards. The forests were still a lot more comforting than the Empire would be to him anymore. His fake family.

"Drynnfor, Scirth, and Kryndrich. That is that which I know of, is it half?" Morroig said, walking behind all of the White Cross Army.

"There's tons, those are the worst, well another of the worst is the Seratres, but don't worry about any of those. The only one that doesn't have a habitat to live is the Scirth, but none of those live━as far as we know." Meitat said.

"The monsters to worry about here are Lunfods, Agriv, Origratts, AhDresa, Algrevis, Vorunkump, etcetera." Saviesa listed.

Morroig knew those, Lunfods were elongated buggish monsters with poison tipped feet, when it walks on skin, the skin shrivels up and dies and chemicals go into the blood, slowly killing. Agriv were plant-like monsters that look like trees, but one could tell the difference since they learned its fruit were tempting and lovely looking, but they would blind instantly. When it does that, the "roots" grab and consume. Origratts and AhDresa looked very similar. They both were furry animals, both rely on their tails to constrict, but one swallows whole as the other chews. Algrevis were minute beasts that glide above the trees on tiny wings, not much bigger than itself. Randomly, they die and drop, when they drop, the dead Algrevis somehow drills to the center of the world. If anything is in the way, it will be drilled through. Vorunkump are furry burrowing animals, their holes in the earth are large and look secure to walk on. When something falls in, the Vorunkump brutally eats it alive.

The silence Morroig gave made the others smile. "Even though they sound dangerous, you're more, especially with that sword."

Morroig frowned, "Is that supposed to accuse me of murder?"

"No, sorry if you took it that way."

"How many people have you escorted through Usm Orgindykk?"

"You wouldn't believe the huge number." The White Cross Army laughed, but stopped and they all hit into Köole, who ceased walking and held up a hand for silence. He looked at the ground and knelt. A hand on the ground and he walked to the side. He kept his hand on the ground, his other hand motioning to follow. Slowly and silently, though the latter slightly immaterial, they knelt-walked around the Ghordoi (the technical term for a Vorunkump's hole). When past it, they started walking cautiously forward.

"You spoke as if this journey would be dangerous, nothing is really happening."

"These forests are more dangerous than they look, that Ghordoi could have killed you, plus Algrevis have been flying above us, but none died yet, I have also seen an Origratt back a minute ago, you, Morroig, aren't looking for them."

"Oh, have you two seen those?"

"Yes." They replied. Morroig laughed a bit in his stupidity, then started looking around for monsters. The tree over that way must have been an Agriv, there was also that shuffle over there in the ground, off to the left. Probably a burrowing animal.

An arrow whizzed from Saviesa, right behind Morroig, as he turned around, was a Lunfod, which was quite big, three or four feet tall. It was just a light purple cockroach, with bright yellow feet. When Morroig turned back around, the three were casually walking forward, not even bothering, so Morroig ran up with them.

"Feel endangered yet?"

"Not quite, you guys are way too trustworthy to feel dangered around. For me, at least."

"Morroig, you must always remember, even though we can and have the ability to, you will have to fight some fights on your own, most."

"We can, but we won't always be there for you."

"I know, but may I wonder why?"

"You may indeed, go ahead."

Morroig waited a bit, not really wanting to wonder, "err, what is the reason?"

Meitat and Saviesa laughed, then Meitat answered with, "because we are of the will of the Emperor of Kings, who wants people to fight for and with him. To never give up, you are part of his army, so you can learn to fight for him, verbally, physically, everything that you do, think, and say." Not a second after he finished his statement, Köole jumped back into Meitat, who didn't do anything. As fast as sound, a hole was formed right where Meitat was about to step.

"Thank you." Meitat said as they got up. Köole smiled at his brother and went on. "Morroig, does that make sense?"

"Yeah." Morroig looked at his sword, Adstré. "What is the reason that I have to figure out the power of my sword?"

"Aferdikk wished that we didn't tell him, that he could figure it out himself."

"Who is he?"

"Aferdikk is the human that lived in Riure's time that weld Corr, the Earth Sword. Wise man, he was. He was the greatest friend to Saviesa. Always traveled with us, always trying to find a verbal way out before he had to use his terror or peace. But one day, a jealous man, who bore Paeos, the Fire Sword, brought up a great fire in a city we were saving at the time, being immortal, we were the only ones to survive."

"What happened to that━"

A screech came, Köole's sword and Saviesa's bow were bore at the speed of light, pointing at the source, two AhDresa right in front of them, about to huge furry snakes open wide as they jumped to Köole. The blatant momentum couldn't be stopped easily, "Down!"

As fast as ever, Meitat pulled Morroig and Saviesa down, as Köole shifted to the side and cut off both heads with one stalwart swing of his sword. The two heads flew past the three on the ground, the bodies, however, fell on them.

The sheer size was probably a hundred or so pounds each, which weak Morroig couldn't even push off, but Meitat and Saviesa did so. Morroig stood and picked up the Water Sword. Morroig's fine cloth shirt had dark yellow bloodstains all over it. "That was scary."

Köole looked at them to see if they were okay, then started walking again. All following after him, Morroig asked his question again, "What happened to the jealous man? From what you told me previous to the AhDresa attack."

"Morroig, that was an Origratt. It had teeth." Saviesa said, probably not too keen to talk about the murder of the greatest friend he had after Hereu, the Son.

"Periferu was forgiven by us, we told him it was all okay, but he commited suicide because tons of people hated him for what he did." Meitat said.

"You forgave him? For killing your good friend and many others? Why?"

"Morroig, when a man asks for for forgiveness, whether he deserves it or not, he is to be forgiven, no matter what he does, if he sincerely asks for redemption, it shall be his." Saviesa said.

"Why?"

"Well think about it this way, say you accidentally killed a man, or purposefully, wouldn't you want everyone to forgive you and forget it?"

"That is what I want. . ."

"What? Oh, right, I forgot, okay, well, since you wish you could be forgiven for anything you do, on purpose or accident, then you can forgive them."

"If it is on purpose, why should we forgive?"

"Soreth Injesius Newon is something that people do on purpose, all evil ways are purposeful. But if a man asks sincerely for forgiveness for a purposeful deed, then he blatantly regrets it, and when you regret, you wish it would never happen, which means, that is to be forgiven, as well."

"But even when someone doesn't ask for forgiveness, when they don't regret, we are still to for━" Again, Köole rammed into Meitat, as another Algrevis plummeted into Imbōanv Mountain. "This is starting to get annoying, Saviesa, you can be in front of me now."

After twenty-three Algrevis, eighteen Origratts and AhDresa, thirteen Lunfods, seven Agriv, and no Vorunkump, the White Cross Army and Morroig finally arrived out of Usm Orgindykk. There were meadows. Endless fields.

"Birhoo Lands. It's mostly safe here, more than in there. They had travelled nonstop for two days and two nights, the sun was just rising, showing a majestic sight on the fields and the dew and fog, which was tinted pink at the sunrise color. Morroig, although he didn't do much except non stop walking, fell face-first into the wet fields and started in a silent sleep of sixteen hours.

By the time he got up, it was getting slightly dark again, engraved on a good sized stone tablet was;

Morroig,

Sorry that we had to leave, you should be safe, especial especially with Adstré. Try to head eastern, to the Land of the Heir. There are free men there, but only a few. The only humans there live in the most southern part, freely, or in Imbōanv City, like the senator you know, Geroo Jergubynn, there are human slaves there. Maybe five hundred, not anywhere near the six-thousand back at your old home. Okay, be cautious, trust your sword with all of your will.

Saviesa, Meitat, and Köole

Morroig read the stone twice, wondering how to get east in the sky that was this, he knew that there was a constellation that always pointed south, though he didn't remember the name at the moment.

But Usm Orgindykk was north of Birhoo Lands. Birhoo Lands was Northeast of the south part of the Land of the Heir. Geographically thinking, Morroig calculated that he didn't want to go southwest, for he didn't wish to go through water and pure nothingness, so he decided to go east as he was told on the tablet. Nagrik Eats Sweet Wuylforni, the term they use to know the clockwise rotation of the four major directions. Usm Orgindykk was that way, so when Morroig looked at it, he looked to the right. East.

Which was the direction he followed. Through the endless fields, next to the terrible forest. Which was all he did for eighteen days, going to sleep, waking up, every day eating the same unsanitized pieces of he didn't get sick. The end of the fields turned into a desert, where he could not see anything for a long while, except the trees next to the desert.

Not too willing to accidentally take a poisonous fruit, Morroig stocked up on the little grain that was there. He put four handfuls of grain into his pocket, that might take a day to eat it all if he wanted to not eat a lot each meal.

Certain doom.


	6. Chapter 5: Past the Deserts

Morroig decided that the faster he went, the quicker he could find trees; an oasis or more fields, anything where he could eat. A knack of deserts always seemed to be that the sun blazed upon one's back, front, and all around. Morroig would lose energy and hydration quickly, so why not run to go faster?

Morroig wasn't one that always pushed himself to do what he thought needed, he wasn't the strongest. He needed Germà for that.

All Morroig did was run, for almost ten minutes, which was harder than it looked for a twelve year old, especially up and down sand dunes four times larger than his body. Surely enough, he felt the sun sizzle his skin, he could feel little bubbles on the back of his neck and his arms, he was drenched in sweat, the grain would probably not taste good any more. Not that they ever tasted good. . .

Morroig took off his shirt and tore off the ends of his pants in his heat, he held onto his sword, though it was metal, it still felt cold, it pulsed in his hands, metronoming his heartbeat to the normal way it was. There was power in it, he knew that before, but he felt it then. He held it up to his face, it was wet. Water was leaking through the edges.

"Swords don't usually do that, do they?" Morroig asked himself, not really wanting his mind to make a whole conversation. Trust your sword.

Morroig closed his tired eyes, knelt down, sword blade partially in the sand. He concentrated, he felt his hands cool down, then his arms. Water started coming quickly out of the blade. Morroig was amazed, he opened his eyes and a water dune started, he held onto the sword tightly, too afraid to let it go, he stood up, walked into the water, he couldn't breathe, but he was more relaxed than he was in a long time. Almost fifteen minutes.

He will the sword to ascend him, and he found himself on top of the sand dune, twice his size, of pure blue water. He pointed his sword east, and as fast as possible, the water pushed him. It felt amazing, nothing he's ever felt before, standing on a boulder of water, and moving maybe a mile a minute. His feet couldn't move from its spot, he was secure at the high speed velocity. At the first sign of an oasis not far off to the right, maybe hours later, he dropped his sword and the water popped like a balloon, which made Morroig fall ten feet.

Still flabbergasted at the sword's mighty power, he looked at the Water Sword as he made his way to the group of palm trees. The sand where he was was terribly soaked, but it was okay, the sun would take care of the small spill like a maid right before her master comes home.

He quickly wondered about the other powers of the sword and how he could control when the water comes out. The bubbles on the back of his neck and arms still stung greatly as he approached the enormous lake and tall bent palm trees, great juicy Wuylforni grew everywhere, those great maroon teardrops. Morroig plucked one and bit into its wonderfully sweet and slightly tangy taste.

Not a second after, he noticed the group of three older men, with great long gray beards down to their abdominal regions. They looked at him casually, just another boy with a sword that came over from a water boulder from Birhoo Lands.

"Good day." Morroig called to them, who fled back at his voice, into the shadows of the trees from whence they came. Morroig looked at the spot where they were for a little, then turned back around.

Scared out of his wits, Morroig fell back at the sight of the three old men in front of him, all with gray eyes and fiery red cloaks. They each bore a dagger.

"Who are you boy?" came a layered voice from the tallest one.

As if a voice from inside Morroig answered for him, "I am Morroig." It was a middle aged voice, strong, powerful, fearless.

The three looked at him curiously, "give us one good reason why we shouldn't cannibalize upon your live flesh." The shortest one said.

"I am not who you think I am," the voice was getting older now, he was ancient, "leave!" it yelled harshly and fiercely.

At the sound of the the great voice, they quivered and backed off into the shadows, yet again.

"What was that?" Morroig asked himself, the voice he had for the last twelve years and eight tried speaking like that, but it was something he had never heard of, did it happen to Merdanni? Did it happen to the White Cross Army?

Morroig went to the water, cupped water into his hand, and drank it. He did that quite a bit, the water was so purified that he could spend all day drinking it. Of course he wouldn't, it wasn't his land, and the land probably was owned by the three older men. Who, he got the feeling, didn't like him very much. Old people tend not to be as dangerous, but what if these old men knew the voice of the man that Morroig supposedly was, was Morroig a reincarnation of this man they knew, by their means. Do they wish him dead once again? No, that would be an everlasting chain of people. Surely they would capture him, torture him, but never actually kill him.

Morroig got up, got two Wuylforni, and started running out of the oasis the quickest way. Back. He held his sword closely, especially after the sounds of hundred of screaming men. Old men. Morroig looked back at them, they were getting to him at a speed greater than what he could go. He turned to them, sword at ready.

Once again, the old voice that Morroig didn't know spoke. "Back!"

They didn't get back, they were nearly on top of Morroig. A roar came from his mouth. An terribly scary roar, dropping all of the men to their feet, clutching their ears. "You now will not hear, because you will not listen." the old harsh voice said.

Morroig took his sword up to his face, the cold pulsing metal sprouted water instantly, taking all the men and forcing them into the palace of deserts. The water took Morroig up and he was again, riding the water in the desert, he fell asleep, again. He didn't know how long, or how the water steered itself, but he awoke in the sand, completely dry, with grass and trees in the far distance. Not just an oasis. He was to soon leave the deserts. He hadn't experienced how bad they can really get, especially the sandstorms and passerby caravans, which could get deadly. Morroig ran to the foliage, which took him eight minutes of running with his sword and thirty-eight minutes of walking with it. The closer he got, the more he saw.

There were three female children with sixteen Fredgi. A Fredgus is two llama heads on a goat body, three or four feet tall. But there were also a huge group of forty-three Hypikcan under the authority of four tall men in assorted color cloaks. The head and body of a sheep, tail and legs of a lion.

Morroig ran the last minute, and saw them fighting over the water at the well.

"We got here first!" cried the girls.

"We have more to feed, step aside!"

In the midst, Morroig set all of the Hypikcan free, "Hey guys!" All looked at him, "are those Hypikcan yours?"

The men stared in shock and ran after their precious cattle as the girls giggled. They looked about the height of seven to ten year olds, their faces, except eyes, were wrapped in dirty cloth, the same dirty cloth was wrapped around them like skirts and sleeveless shirts.

"Thank you, sir!" the shortest said, sounding very young, perhaps six.

Morroig smiled at them and walked over to the well that the girls were taking a bucket of for their animals. He looked deep into it, leaned into it, a Fredgus running into his legs was what mainly pushed him into the well, though. Morroig yelled, if he had his sword, it wouldn't be as hard in there, but he could swim.

"Just wait, we will get our sister!"

"I just need my sword!" but they had already gone, leaving their Fredgi. Morroig tried to hold onto the sides, but it was all smooth, and the water was purified well, more sand in it since Morroig fell in.

Within five minutes, a cute voice was thrown down the well, soothing Morroig immensely, "hey, you down there! We will bring the bucket down, hold onto it tightly!"

"Okay." Morroig called up.

He took the descending bucket of strong wood, "got it!"

"Okay," he heard the voice talking to her sisters, "come on, now, pull!" Morroig was slowly pulled up to the edge of the well, where he climbed the rest by himself, when he got out, he fell on a Fredgus that yelled loudly in his ear, rolling over, holding his ear, he also heard the laughter of the girls.

"Núvia, this is the boy that chased those mean people away." the oldest of the three girls whispered to her older sister. Morroig stood up, he instintly regretted having no shirt when he looked at the girl slightly shorter than himself, she too had a turban, but she had green eyes that Morroig looked into for a second or two.

"I didn't chase them away."

"Yeah, he took away the Hypikcan, which the mean people chased after, all in all, he really did chase them away."

"Have you seen my sword?"

"Sword? Why would you need a sword here?" Núvia asked.

"Yes, here it is." a girl extended Adstré, but Núvia grabbed it.

"Excuse me, that is mine." Morroig said, politely.

"What do you need it for?" she asked, looking at it closely.

"Ma'am, what do you believe in? For this sword is no ordinary one, it is Adstré, the Water Sword. Given to me by the White Cross Army. It has brought me through the desert, and I will not lose it right now to anyone.

"Adstré?" the youngest asked, "Núvia, let's see its power, Papa told us about it."

"No, Yuerf, it is a power we cannot reckon with. Here you go, err. . ."

"Morroig." he said as he took his sword back.

"Tell me, if you came through the desert, do you have a shelter?"

"No."

"Come, eat with us."

"Thank you." Morroig smiled, the girls fed their Fredgi as Morroig and Núvia walked through the short grass, towards a giant opening with an enormous tent, two big tents, and one small one, about a hundred or so Fredgi, and a great bonfire, where twenty or so men were around, listening to a big man story-telling by the fire.

"Confiar, my father. Priest of Botiga, where you are now." the soothing voice said to Morroig, who nodded. "And that man over there, the one in the green cloak, he has Eldru, the Light Sword."

Morroig looked at the group, there were a slight bit more men than women, but none had turbans. The smallest children were looking at Confiar with excitement, the others were looking at the shirtless boy that came with the girl they knew. A few looked at his sword, they muttered.

Confiar stopped telling stories and looked at the boy. "Ah, is this the boy that was stuck in the well and helped my precious daughters?" the voice said, a strong, sturdy voice. Forty years, maybe, with a great black beard and multi-colored fur cloak. "Come, we are getting ready for the great feast! Núvia, please seat this boy."

Morroig was sat next to a woman of her twenties, very long blond hair, curious blue eyes, and slightly too skinny body, dressed in a maroon cloak. There was a gap at his other side, and place mats in front of everyone. Núvia sat off to Morroig's left, which then she took off her turban to reveal flowing curly black hair. She was gorgeous, Morroig thought, then tore his staring eyes away.

People stopped looking at Morroig and his sword, then the three girls came back with their Fredgi and four women and three men came out of the biggest tent, carrying baskets to each mat, filled with fruits, vegetables, wheat products, and a favorite of Morroig's, Argherf. A type of sugar always molded into a sculpture, back in he kingdom, the sculptures were the false gods, but in Botiga, Morroig saw the familiar White Cross Army, the Five Swords of Peace, Akcyard, five children he did not know, and an old man.

In front of Morroig sat five loaves in the basket, which Morroig reached for, before quietly told, "not yet." by Yuerf. Without the turban, she had straight black hair, and brown eyes, her chubbiness was cute for the youth.

"Alas, we are all here, sit down please, we have an honorary guest!" Confiar said. Oh no, Morroig thought. "Please stand up, boy." he smiled at Morroig as they became the only two standing. He threw his heavy comfortable cloak around him, "what is your name?"

"Morroig."

"Morroig, I owe you my great gratitude, thank you!" Everyone applauded him.

"Sir, not trying to get anything, but I sincerely did not do anything."

"Young Morroig, maybe you do not know, that these people that threaten our wells have been here a long time, and always push around anyone and everyone who goes, even if all of us go, then they will gather fivefold our amount and take our Fredgi. Maybe you do not understand that the girls you have saved have witnessed those men stealing half our Fredgi. Morroig, you have more to be thanked for than you understand."

"But I have commited a great crime."

"If my daughter, Núvia has brought anyone to our feast, than that person is unlike the forty ones she told off before, your crime will be forgotten and forgiven, feast with us and enjoy!" Morroig was motioned back to his seat. "Ah, now, Juirydug, if you please grab me my blaviuk, I would be inclined to play a song as people dance and others feast." The sky was dark and the fire and the fur cloak was warm.

A boy ran over and brought Corfiar a wooden instrument of six strings, that when Confiar tuned was not in a musical note order. He immediately started playing a jumpy tune and scatting rhythmically. People ate in, Morroig sat there considering what the man had said. The man started singing,

A color so bright on a thread

A rock on the mountaintop

Maybe a great head

But not the whole story!

He again started scatting a bit with his peaceful and fast playing. Morroig smiled and bit into a great loaf. A copper tray was past to him from the girl on his right, with the Argherf. Morroig took up a tannish sugar boy. He had straight hair to his shoulders, brilliantly expensive clothing. He was posing with a long rod, he was obviously a wealthy boy, but who?

"Ahh," the youngest daughter of Confiar pouted, "I wanted Enganyar."

Morroig handed the figure to her and took a sword, etched into it was Paeos. The tray was then passed, and Morroig asked who Enganyar was while the dong went on.

"Enganyar was the twin of Hurifyt, who was the older of the two. Tricky Enganyar took the birthright, wrestled an Akcyard, married two girls, and had either twelve or thirteen sons."

"Quite a man."

"Uh huh," she said biting into it.

"Why was he a hero?"

"He was a role model, he trusted the Emperor of Kings with all his heart, all his soul, and all his mind. That is what we are to do."

"Right."

Songs kept coming one after another, always a joyful spirit, almost everyone sang or danced along, except two men who sat there all night and Morroig, who never was one to sing or dance.

He smiled the whole night, watched Núvia every now and then, who was a much greater dancer than Morroig was and ever could be. He fell didn't fall asleep. He had plenty of sleep, the fire went out, guests left on happy notes until all left was Morroig, a woman of mid-thirties, the three asleep little girls, and the priest teaching his eldest daughter to play the blaviuk.

She played it slowly, a good lengthy pause between each strum of a new chord. "Morroig, are you tired?" the woman asked.

"No, I slept a lot the past month or so. I'm really not tired, are you?"

"I am, I have to finish cleaning up, then it will be lights out. Lights really only meaning the fire lantern there."

"Do you want help with that?"

"Yes please, thank you. There is crumbs all over the mats and seats, if you would just beat them over into the trees there, I would be ever so thankful."

"Yes ma'am, I will." Morroig smiled and picked one up, careful not to drop any and brought it over to the trees to beat. Either one or both of her parents told her, or Núvia decided to help Morroig on her own, but he had no idea which was the reason.

"My father said that you will get the smallest tent as I go into my sisters' tent. If you mean to stay of course, you're perfectly welcome."

"Great. I'll have to thank your father for his hospitality. I wish to thank you, too, Núvia. Er, may I call you that?"

"Of course." she smiled cutely. "My family likes you, by the way. My mother says you're polite, my father says you're humble, my sisters say you're brave."

"If I may wonder, what do you say I am?" Morroig looked at her beautiful green eyes, which the small light showed only slightly.

"You may wonder it, you may ponder it tonight." she laughed.

Morroig smiled, "will you tell me, one day?"

"One day," she smiled again, "if you stay long enough for me to make actual assumptions based on your attitude and actions."

Morroig laughed, "goodnight, then." He took the last mat politely from her hands to beat it as she left to the tent of her sisters slumber. Morroig gave back the cloak and got into the smallest tent, which was still pretty roomy, enough for him to stand, maybe jump if he wanted to. He lay down, indeed wondering what Núvia thought of him. He smiled all night until he fell asleep.


End file.
